


Bath Time

by MsBrightsideSH



Series: Inception Bingo 2016 [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bath Time, Bathing/Washing, M/M, inception trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBrightsideSH/pseuds/MsBrightsideSH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur comes home soaking wet and cold from the rain.<br/>Eames runs him a hot bath *wink wink nudge nudge nudge*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bath Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of what shall hopefully be five for Inception Bingo. Enjoy!  
> All my love to mycitruspocket, kate_the_reader and hooptedoodley for helping so much and always being there <3

“Fucking hell!”

 

Eames looked up from where he was rereading  _ Ivanhoe  _ on the sofa for the third time. 

“Darling, are you ok?”

From the hall came only a non-commital grunt and then the unmistakable sound of a wet umbrella hitting the floor. Eames glanced at the window where the rain beat against the panes, driven hard by the wind. A  _ broken  _ umbrella probably.

His suspicions were confirmed when Arthur appeared in the doorway, literally dripping wet.

“I fucking hate London,” he said viciously, pushing his soaking hair out of his eyes.

“Petal, you don’t mean that!” Eames exclaimed, getting up, and wiping a drop of water from Arthur’s nose. “Yes, I do,” Arthur grumbled. “Look at my suit, it’s ruined.”

That, Eames thought, was undeniably true. The blue wool was wrinkled and the red of Arthur’s tie was bleeding into his white shirt.

“I told you not to take an umbrella in this weather. It’s London, you need a -” 

“If you say the word ‘raincoat’, I  _ will _ disembowel you, Eames.”

Eames had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Instead, he pushed Arthur’s jacket off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Couldn’t be saved anyway. Arthur looked like he wanted to protest, so Eames took his cold face in his hands and stifled his words with a kiss.

Arthur made a little ‘hmpf’ sound, but then kissed back hungrily, tension seeping out of his shoulders a bit. After a minute or so, Eames noticed that Arthur’s arms were even colder to the touch than his face. 

“How about,” he murmured against Arthur’s mouth, “we get your kit off and I run you a nice, hot bath?” 

Instantly, Arthur bristled. “It was  _ rain _ , Eames, I’m not a child, I don’t need to be coddled, ok?”

Eames arched an eyebrow. Admittedly, not his usual choice of facial expression, but then again, there were moments in life when some eyebrow-arching was needed, and he’d learned from the best, after all.

“Darling, I’m not coddling you because I think you need it, I’m doing it because I want to. 

You look delicious in your soaked shirt, but I think you’d look even better naked in my tub. Indulge me, hmm?”

Arthur tried to keep up his frown, but Eames knew he’d won.

“Right,” Arthur said after a beat, taking off his tie and - after hesitating for a second - dropping it onto his crumpled suit jacket. “Go on then, Mr Eames. Do your worst.”

Eames grinned, delighted. “That’s what I do best.” He crouched down to untie Arthur’s shoes, looking up from under his lashes, chewing his lower lip for good measure. Being slightly ridiculous had  _ always _ worked on Arthur, and now was no different. He played along beautifully, pressing a thumb against Eames’ mouth until Eames started nibbling and sucking on it. When Arthur’s shoes and socks were off, he pulled Eames up  _ by the hair _ , and bloody hell, but Arthur was  _ hot _ when he got like this. They kissed messily while Eames took off Arthur’s shirt (if a few buttons popped off, nobody cared, it was mostly ruined as well, after all).

They laughed breathlessly as the soaked fabric clung to Arthur’s arms, refusing to be moved for a few seconds. Finally, it budged and they stumbled into the bathroom, Arthur already kicking away his trousers and pants while Eames pulled his jumper over his head. 

Eames started running the bath, then quickly chucked the rest of his clothes.

Arthur dipped a toe into the water carefully, leg arched, and Eames couldn’t help himself, he had to wrap his entire body around Arthur’s and simply breathe him in, nose at his wet, loose hair. Arthur made a soft sound in his throat and  _ melted _ into Eames, all the previous tension, sexual and otherwise, leaving him. They stood like that for a few seconds, then Eames reluctantly disentangled himself and gave Arthur a little nudge. “Come on, in with you.”

Arthur grimaced and lowered himself into the tub, hissing as his cold skin made contact with the hot water. “Son of a bitch!” He made as if to get back out, but Eames had none of it, gently pushing him back. “Shh,” he soothed and climbed in behind him, pulling Arthur against his chest, moving his hands up and down his arms. Arthur sighed and relaxed more and more, his skin gradually getting warmer. Eames kissed his neck and reached for the bottle that held Arthur’s shampoo. He opened it and closed his eyes for a moment as the familiar smell hit him.

So maybe he was completely smitten and in too deep to ever go back. In moments like this, he allowed himself to actually believe that Arthur felt the same, allowed himself to acknowledge all the little things Arthur did to prove it, allowed himself to open all the secret, vulnerable places in his heart to the truth.

The sudden rush of happiness he felt was so powerful that he had to stop breathing for a second, until Arthur half turned in his embrace. “Eames, are you -” 

“Fine,” Eames quickly reassured him, and if his voice sounded a little bit rougher than usual, well, Arthur didn’t say anything. Eames squeezed the bottle and let a generous amount of liquid pool in the palm of his hand. He flicked the cap back on and put it aside. Arthur groaned when Eames sunk both his hands into his hair, watching the bubbles rise up between the wet, black strands.

He  _ loved  _ Arthur’s hair like this without the gel, and especially wet, when it reached down his entire neck, curling slightly behind his ears. Eames took his time spreading the foam, paying attention to Arthur’s temples, rubbing his neck with his thumbs.

By now Arthur was issuing a steady stream of moans and breathy little sounds that drove Eames  _ crazy _ . His hands wandered gradually lower, first swiping over Arthur’s chest in broad motions, then circling his nipples. Arthur dropped his head against Eames’s shoulder and let Eames mouth and bite at his neck. Eames tightened his arms around him and put his lips against Arthur’s ear. “I love you.”


End file.
